Give and Get
by GKingOfFez
Summary: It's Christmas time in the Gulch, and G, Tucker and Grif decide to spend some quality time together. Rated T for mild swearing and fluffy handcuffs. Done for TRvBRC Christmas Challenge.


_Done for TRvBRC Christmas Challenge! _

_I may even do a New Year's sequel, if I can get it done in time._

_Thanks much to Kensie for Beta'ing~_

…

"Merry Christmas, G!" Tucker proclaimed, striding into the cave with a fluffy red santa hat -rivalling Donut's hair for fluffiness- upon his head. "Sorry I couldn't come earlier, I only just got away from Caboose. He keeps badgering me about not getting him a present."

"S'ok. Merry Christmas to you to, Tucker," G replied, looking up from her report, a small string of tinsel tied around her wrist. "Nice hat."

"Thanks. Church lent it to me."

She frowned, "Why did Church have a Santa hat to begin with?

"Because Caboose gave it to him, and he didn't want it, so…" Tucker shrugged, sitting himself down opposite her at the small table. "Anyway, present time!"

G raised her eyebrows, "You didn't have to get me anything, you know."

Tucker simply grinned at her in a mischievous way, "Yeah I did. Now put that away…" He pointed at the half-finished report she was working on. "…and promise not to touch it again until tomorrow. No working on Christmas, it takes away the whole point of the holiday."

G scoffed, noticing the all too serious look on Tucker's face. "Yes sir, would you like me to shine your shoes as well, sir." She said, closing the report and flashing Tucker a mock salute.

"Maybe later. And maybe at the same time you can help me shine something else as well, if you get my drift," G rolled her eyes, "Now, close your eyes and hold out your hand," Tucker commanded.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "What, don't you trust me? I just couldn't get wrapping paper, that's all. And I don't want you to see what it is before I give it to you." Tucker shook his head like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Besides, eyelids are like wrapping paper, but cheaper and more natural," he added. "I mean, both of them can hide the gift from view, if you know how to use them. Although I wouldn't put tape on your eyelids, it would probably hurt. Caboose did that once and he-"

"Alright! That's enough, you win, just give me the stupid present, will you," G said, holding out her hand and closing her eyes, hoping she wasn't about to regret it.

"You're the boss," came Tucker's voice from in front of her, and she felt something being placed in her hand. It was oddly shaped, plastic by the feel of it, and something fluffy brushed against her fingers.

"You can open your eyes now, you know."

She did, and for a moment she stared at the item in her hand in astonishment. It was plastic alright. And fluffy. And pink. A pair of pink, fluffy-

"Handcuffs?" She looked up at Tucker, confused.

"Yup," he replied, a goofy grin upon his face. "Although I could only get one pair, so you and Tex will just have to share. I don't mind though. Bow-chicka-bow-wow." His smile widened.

G looked back down at the handcuffs, then up at the still grinning Tucker, seriously doubting, not for the first time, the insanity behind her choice to come to Blood Gulch. "You have no idea how much effort it's taking not to break your nose right now, you know."

Tucker's smile faded a little, "Well, you obviously have more self-control than Tex, then." He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the large bruise forming on his right shoulder. "Look what she did to me when I gave her the cuffs this morning."

She winced sympathetically. She had been on the receiving end of one of Tex's iron punches more than once during her Freelancer training.

"But can you really blame her?" G said, putting the cuffs on the table and standing up, "I mean, seriously: you gave her a sex toy. A _sex_ toy."

Tucker's grin returned in full measure. "Not just any sex toy: one that both of you can wear at once."

G sighed, picking up the closed report and putting it away in a cabinet next to the giant TV screen that flashed between various angles of the canyon above.

"You do realise, right, that no matter how many times you ask, I am not gonna have a threesome with you even if you were the only other person in this godforsaken universe."

"Then it wouldn't be a threesome, would it?"

She shook her head in exasperation.

"Should I even ask why you guys are talking about threesomes and sex toys?" came a voice, and she glanced up to see Grif standing at the mouth of the tunnel that lead to the surface.

G did a double take, not quite understanding what she had just seen. She felt her mouth drop open.

Grif was fully clad in a red santa suit, complete with gloves, beard and boots. A black belt with a silver buckle glinted on his belly, and a fluffy santa hat that looked very much like Tucker's sat on his head. His considerable weight completed the picture, making him look like a jolly Father Christmas, if not for the look of complete annoyance upon his face.

Grif looked from the two of them to the fluffy handcuffs on the table and seems to reconsider his comment, "On second thought, I don't want to know. Hey, G, do you have anything that can get super glue off?"

G shook her head, deciding that this wasn't some kind of hallucination. "Uh, I don't think so. I think the only thing that can get super-glue off is acetone. Your best bet is nail polish remover; that's got acetone in it, I think."

"Damnit, that means I'm going to have to ask Donut if I can borrow his." Grif gave a useless tug at the beard which appeared, at closer inspection, to be stuck to his face.

"Dude, what's with the costume?" Tucker asked suddenly, his voice strained as though fighting back the urge to laugh and he struggled to keep a straight face, "I mean, I get the 'Christmas Spirit' crap from Caboose and that Donut guy, but from you-"

"Oh, shut up, Tucker." Grif snapped, "Donut got a hold of a santa suit and some super glue and stuck it on me while I was sleeping last night. Where he got a santa suit from in the middle of this, I'll never know. Anyway, he said that it was 'getting into the festive season' and something about clashing colours, or some shit like that," Grif sat himself down next to Tucker, still tugging at the beard.

"And then Sarge was all 'wearing red and getting into the team spirit' crap, followed by the usual insult and punishment. And Simmons didn't help either; I tried to get him to tell me what takes off super glue, but he just kept looking at me real weird, so I gave up on him. So now I'm stuck walking around in this hot, and extremely itchy suit all day," he finished, giving up on pulling the hair off his face and simply sitting with his arms crossed looking extremely grumpy.

G and Tucker (who had both been working furiously to keep straight faces for the last few minutes) were unable to hold their laughter in any longer: Tucker found himself clutching the table for support, banging his fist against the surface as G doubled over clutching her chest, tears soon rolling down both their faces.

"He got you while you were _sleeping_!"Tucker gasped.

It was a while until the laughter finally subsided into small chuckles and much gasping for breath, as Grif sat on one of the chairs all the while stony faced, arms crossed and glaring at the pair of them.

"Sorry Grif," G wheezed, staggering over to one of the side corridors and disappearing within it.

"Yeah, we couldn't help ourselves," Tucker said, hiccupping slightly and readjusting himself on his chair.

"Whatever, bastards," Grif mumbled, tugging at the beard again.

"Hey, that reminds me. Merry Christmas, buddy. Catch," Tucker said, throwing something across the table which Grif caught in one of his gloved hands.

"Gee, you shouldn't have, Tucker," Grif said as sarcastically as he could before glancing at the present.

It was a Whoopee Cushion.

"See? Just like in the story you told me. Except your sister and that bouncer aren't here, and we're not in Vegas."

"I knew it should never have told you that fucking story," Grif sighed, "How did we even get on that subject to begin with?"

Tucker shrugged, "Don't ask me, dude. I'm not even sure why we have so much free time on our hands to talk."

"Merry Christmas, guys," G panted, emerging from the side corridor almost hidden behind several boxes of beer which were stacked in her arms.

For the second time in ten minutes, several jaws dropped.

"G…" Grif began, completely lost for words in the presence of beer, "You've been holding out on us."

"Yeah, where'd you get all the beer?" Tucker said, standing up as she deposited the boxes onto the table.

"I have a contact at headquarters, he oversees all the supply drops and he's been slipping a few boxes in for me every drop. I've been stockpiling it for months," G said, grinning, "I swear, I wouldn't have made it this long here without his help. Anyway, I figured you guys might like some."

"Who cares how she got! Let's just drink it all before we have to go back to he- I mean our bases." He took a bottle out and removed the cap, taking a long swig with a sigh of satisfaction. "Anyway, I would rather not want to remember today, anyway," he added, indicating the Santa suit.

"Isn't it too early to be drinking?" Tucker inquired, taking a bottle nonetheless.

"Oh, don't be a sissy, Tucker. Just drink the damn beer," Grif said, finishing his first bottle and reaching for a second. "Hey, do you think that beer could dissolve the super-glue?"

G shrugged, taking a gulp of her own beer. "Might be worth a try, if not to see you spill beer all over yourself."

Tucker sniggered.

"Oh, fuck you, Tucker." Grif said, finishing his second bottle in record time.

"I'd rather not, Grif. Anyway, guys, how about a toast before we get too drunk to even remember it's Christmas?"

"Wait, I thought you said it was too early for drinking?" G said teasingly.

"Fuck that, it's Christmas: it's never too early to get drunk," Grif supplied wisely.

"Anyway, on to our toast," Tucker said, raising his glass, "Here's to a fucking awful year in this living hell we call Blood Gulch. May our deaths be swift and as painless as possible, or at the very least this time next year be sitting on a nice beach somewhere that isn't anywhere near here. Oh, and I'd like to get laid sometime between then and now, thank you very much," he said, with a half glance at G, who rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Merry Christmas, guys."

"Amen!" Grif cried tipsily, already surrounded by empty bottles.

G chuckled. "Cheers, guys. Merry Christmas."

…

_This is set much later in SoG than I am up to at this point._

_As for SoG, it's not dead, just floating. Every time I say that the next chapter is nearly ready means another month or so of waiting for you, so I'll say this: expect it within the next few weeks (as I have school holidays), that's the best estimate I can give you. _

_Sorry, I really need to get a schedule going, or something that is more organisational than I have now. _

_Happy Holidays~_


End file.
